The Darkest Truth
by Live.Write.Love01
Summary: When Rose brings a Malfoy to Weasley family Christmas dinner as her boyfriend, things don't go exactly as planned...formally known as "Watching them Grow." Three installments. ON HOLD.
1. The Weasley's

**Watching Them Grow**

_"You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be." _

Ronald Bilius Weasley had never had the easiest life, to say at the very least. After all, being best mates with The-Boy-Who-Lived, and evidently being the youngest son of a muggle loving "Blood traitor," wasn't particularly a good thing when it came to the war of Good versus Evil, or in one case, Harry Potter versus Lord Voldemort. The various adventures and missions he had gone through with his friends were life threatening, more so their very last than anything else and he knew that he would never have to deal with it again and whenever he thought that, he couldn't be happier.

His main priority, even before aiding Harry in defeating Voldemort during the war, was to keep Hermione Granger safe. He was very protective, see, and with a bleeding war going on (people dying every minute, losing family members; sons, daughters, brothers and sisters) who could blame him? Ron knew from the moment he was on the verge of losing her (again!) when they had arrived at Shell Cottage, he would gladly take a killing spell from none other than the Dark Lord himself, if that meant keeping Hermione from harm's way. Of course he would protect Harry as well; what were best friends for?

Oh, he remembers the incident at the Malfoy Manor as if it was yesterday. Sometimes, when he's alone and falling asleep, he could still hear Hermione's pain stricken screams freshly imprinted into his brain, and he could feel the throbbing of his fists as he slammed them against the stone wall in hopes of finding some sort of way out of the dark and eerie cellar he and Harry had been trapped in. If it hadn't been for the poor, shaky house elf, he doubted Hermione would have made it any further than the wretched house. So, when they had been upon the stairwell, looking over at what was happening, he had never been angrier in his entire life time.

At that time, every fiber in his body was telling him that what just happened was wrong, that the foul lady Bellatrix who was responsible for the death of Dobby later on and the harm to Hermione should've been dealt with in the same fashion as they were. Yet to utter a spell would be signing the death warrant of him and the person who had resided on the stairs with him. Harry's common sense over-rid his obligation to make those fools pay for what happened and in the end, Ron's loyalty to his friend kept him from muttering a curse straight away.

It had not worked out as well as they might have planned, when Ron went off his rocker the moment Bellatrix obliged to Greyback's wishes to do whatever he pleased with the unconscious female upon the floor.

He'd seen the way and heard the way Greyback spoke of Hermione; it made him sick to his stomach. It wasn't only the fact that the much bulkier male was a werewolf and desired flesh to satisfy himself, but there was also those sexual hints that laced his words whenever he spoke of her to him. They were filled with lust and relish and it made his skin crawl.

_"Reckon she'll let me have a bit of the girl when she's finished with her? I'd say I'll get a bite or two, wouldn't you, Ginger?"_

Ron could have sworn that had it not been for the ropes and the lack of a wand, he would have killed him right then and there, in that very spot.

Whilst he had watched her, sat by her side every night they stayed at Shell Cottage, waiting for her to wake up or just willing her to get better and not die on him Ron had developed a hatred for the Malfoy family even worse than he had before. Though at the same time it was more so Bellatrix, but he could not hinder the fact that Lucius, Narcissa and that bloody ferret Draco, had watched while his Hermione, _his_, was screaming and withering in pain right in front of their eyes, in their home. He didn't care if Harry told him what had happened with Narcissa in the forest, he still hated them all.

He was fine with that Ravenclaw girl two years younger, Astoria Greengrass (sister of Daphne, the bleeding slag), up until he had found out that she was fraternizing with Ferret. In fact, when Ron and Hermione had gotten married and Astoria and she worked in the same Ministry department, she became a family friend. That was thrown out of the window the moment she had said she was engaged to Draco, at least, to him of course. Hermione had refused to throw away a friendship because of that, she was always a bit more understanding than Ron himself.

If you asked him what he thought about him and Hermione getting married, or even being a couple, when he was in the first or second year, he would have automatically told you that you were mental. It was the fifth and sixth year where these feelings had developed, or what his mum would say, rose to the surface from deep down.

Hermione's father, he had discovered, could have been more frightening than Voldemort, when Ron asked for his permission to marry. Honestly, he had never thought that someone who works with teeth, a muggle no less, could be so threatening. When he tells this to his brother's and brother-in-law Harry that he had been frightened by a dentist, they had never laughed so hard in their life. Apparently.

And all of the sudden, it was three years into their marriage and despite their occupations (she in the Ministry Law Enforcement, and he as one of Harry's deputy Auror's), they began speaking of having children. Ron knew that he hadn't been at all ready to have a child, mentally at least, but he couldn't suppress the fact that he had wanted to bear a family, to have a son – yes, a son; only because he believed he would do better with having a little boy rather than a daughter. So, they had both agreed to try to conceive, and not even two weeks or so later, Hermione had told him quite teary eyed, that she was pregnant.

Besides a few things, like the time where he and her had shared their first kiss, or when she said yes to his proposal, Ron had never been so ecstatic and scared at the same time. He remembers picking his wife up in ferocious hug and spinning her round, before gently settling her down on the couch and checking to see if he hurt her in any way in which she replied with "Oh honestly, Ronald! I'm fine!"

Merlin he never loved that woman so much. _(That's a l i e…)_

What made things better, was that they were not the only ones who were going to be experiencing being a first-time-parent. Ginny and Harry had announced that they were expecting 2 months prior Ron and Hermione's.

It was only a month later, that Hermione had woke him in hysterics and bleeding from…_there_, and frantically told him that she needed to be taken to St. Mungos straight away. Of course Ron obligated to her dearest and fretful wishes, and he had waited, pacing outside of the room in which the Healers had rushed in wife into, at 3:30 in the morning looking so pale it appeared he hadn't seen the sun in millennia's. Though he supposed he had known that something was wrong with her in the weeks previous to this event; each day she'd come home from work paler and paler, and each morning she woke up she had said she was beginning to get spontaneous pains within her abdomen.

Ron wouldn't have thought for a second that that would have turned out to be so serious.

He had stayed in the room within St. Mungos with Hermione as long as he could, just holding her close to his chest while she sobbed into his shirt and he buried his face into her unruly curls of bronze hair, tears running down his own cheeks and long, pointed nose. He had never known how sorrowful losing an unborn child could be; now he wished he hadn't. But sooner or later, because she was supposed to be staying overnight so they could figure what had gone so wrong for her to have a miscarriage, Ron was forced to leave, but not before the doctor pulled him from the room and said –

"Mr. Weasley…We can't be for sure just yet, but we believe your wife may be sterile. Perhaps it's because she may have been put under the Cruciatus curse during the war, or hit with some sort of spell? Or it could be simply stress related. We'll be sure to let the both of you know by tomorrow afternoon – will you be here?"

That shouldn't have even been a question.

He apparated to the Burrow straight afterwards, where he was sure Harry and Ginny were, with a face as red as tomatoes and freckled cheeks stained with tears. The second that he stepped foot in the doorway he fell to his knees, unable to help himself, and buried his face into his hands. He remembers the commotion, he remembers his sister and his mum and Harry asking if something had happened to Hermione and he lashed out and punched a hole in the wall and told them straight away that they had lost the baby – of course, he hadn't meant the damage he had done, though.

Their pity was so comical and ridiculous in Ron's eyes that he had to leave; he made an excuse that he needed some air and apparated home straight away and the first thing he had done was destroy the living room, clean it up with a flick of his wand, and repeat. Everything was bits and pieces, shredded and broken, and he hadn't bothered to fix it the last time before he collapsed into a fit of (unmanly-like, but he supposed this was an exception) distressed sobs. Part of him wanted to believe that it was his fault the baby had not survived; he wasn't home enough to take care of his wife like a good husband and he hadn't done anything to prevent Bellatrix from torturing her so many years ago.

Hermione looked as good as death when he brought her home the next day (to a clean and seemingly untouched sitting room). It appeared as if her eyes, the chocolate brown eyes he had adored so much, lost their sparkle, their glimmer. She was given days off of work, as was he, but instead of spending it together they spent it apart; he sitting on his chair in the living room, and she in their bedroom. He would walk in on her plenty of times, curled up underneath a blanket with a hand on her vacant abdomen and sobbing so dreadfully it broke his heart. At those times he would slide in the bed next to her, bring her so there was no space in between them and just hold her as she cried. Needless to say, there were many arguments regarding the situation – how one adult blamed themselves and the other attempted to convince them that it wasn't anyone's fault but Bellatrix's; Ron would have thought that since he, the one who was rendered useless that night, would be the one complaining that he was at blame here, and not Hermione.

_**(**__"Mione please don't do this to yourself, it's not your fault!"_

"_That's a load of rubbish and you know it Ronald! If it wasn't for me wanting to go to Xenophilius Lovegood the day we had we would have never been caught and taken to the Malfoy's and I wouldn't have been tortured!" She pulled her sleeve up to reveal the patch of ragged skin, labeling her "mudblood"_

"_Bloody hell Hermione, that was years ago! We had no idea that would happen!"_

"_And what about my work? Do you have an explanation for that one, Ron? You have no idea how much work I had to get done, how much stress I was dealing with! I could have handled it better and told you about the pains when it happened, rather than just think of it as nothing! This is my entire fault and don't you dare pull that card saying that it's not!"_

"_If it was anyone's fault, it was Bellatrix's and Xenophilius's! He's the one that shouted Voldemort's name, which brought the Death Eaters there when we didn't have a set destination! Bellatrix tortured you out of fun when she could have just questioned you; none of us could do anything about it! It's their fault, not yours. Not a chance in Hell was it yours to even begin with, so don't pull that shit with me Hermione! Please"__**)**_

The rest of the family had been rather awkward about it, save from Ginny and Harry. Most were sympathetic in which his wife lashed out too, claiming that she hadn't wanted pity or sympathy and instead she just wanted to forget. Ron couldn't have agreed with her more, yet he welcomed the family's apologies with open arms because he felt as if he needed to rely on someone who wasn't going through the same thing as he and Hermione were. Someone like his mother, who had convinced the husband and wife that it was worth trying again.

So, a year later, they did.

Hermione announced she was pregnant a week afterward. Ron had never been so happy, perhaps he had been – but this was a different kind of happy. It was relief, relief that his wife was able to bare children and that the Healer's accusations were wrong. He took her to St. Mungos regularly, as they had asked, and she was put on bed rest from work for all nine months and until she was able to come back (thanks to Percy, who was the head of his wife's department).

And little Rose Elizabeth Weasley; only 4.5 pounds, was born nine months later on the date of November 15, 2005. Ron couldn't have been more nervous when he paced outside of the large white doors, in which his wife's pained screams emitted. The only two people who had been with him was his father, mother, Harry, Ginny and baby James – his companions done the best they can with comforting him and calming him but at the time Ron's legs didn't agree with his mind and he believed he had never paced so much in his life. He was as happy as any man could be when the screams stopped and in the silence came a tiny wail, and the Healer came from the room with a broad smile on her face.

"_Congratulations Mr. Weasley. Would you like to see your daughter?"_

Ron almost fainted.

There he was, hoping for the son that never had (Hermione and him agreed to wait and see the baby's gender), but being told that he had a daughter. A daughter.

He would have never believed that the small bundle within his wife's arms was his child – that this was all a dream. But as he took her in his own arms from an exhausted Hermione, afraid that he would drop her, and allowed for her tiny, tiny hand to wrap around one of his fingers and stared into her big brown eyes, he knew he wasn't dreaming. From the moment he held her he knew he would do anything to protect her from harm; his little baby girl.

Of course, having a child, a newborn child no less, was nothing too easy. Ron himself had taken off of work in the Auror department, and even had to abandon George with the shop most of the time because he was either too tired, or had to take care of his daughter with Hermione, while she did the necessities he was no good at doing. Night after night he would wake up to loud wailing; he and his wife would take turns attempting to quite her, and no matter how tired, Ron did not mind hauling himself from his bed if that meant that the two most important girls in his life were content.

Two years later, they had Hugo Alexander Weasley (Ron had finally got a son) – who was born three weeks earlier than he should have been. They went through the same cycle again, this time with two children to take care of. They had found that Rose was dyslexic at the tender age of 10 from the Muggle School in which Hermione had enrolled the children, in which would make it harder for her to study and succeed in her school work when she was just one year older.

Needless to say, it was incredibly hard for Ron to watch his baby girl go off to Hogwarts; he had watched after the train with one hand on the small of Hermione's back and the other resting on Hugo's lanky shoulder, forcing himself not to look like an utter wimp, especially with so many people who looked up to him (he was incredibly famous, was he not?) around boarding their own children off. More or less, he was worried about the sorting. Rose had always been different from her cousins, save Albus, and he was worried that his daughter would end up in another house – opposite of Gryffindor. So, when two days passed and there was no letter, he was beginning to fear that his nightmare had come true.

His daughter, a Slytherin?

Ginny and Harry had come to him and Hermione with a letter from Albus on the third day after the sorting, each wearing slightly fearful expressions when they handed it over. Of course, fearing that something had happened to his precious daughter, he grabbed the parchment before his wife even had the chance to reach for it. He remembers every word of the letter, the unfortunate reminder of reading it over too many times:

_Dear mum and dad,_

_Hey guys, sorry I haven't written as soon as you may have liked but with the beginning of term it's kind of difficult to get some free time. It's really cool here, I love it – whatever James said I have yet to encounter…though there a little incident with Peeves that I'd rather not go over. Let's just say I only had one eyebrow that night; thankfully Madame Pomfrey used some potion to grow it back. But I'm pretty sure you don't care about that and you're just eager to find out what house I got sorted into. _

_You might not be surprised, but who knows. I did what you said dad, I begged not to be put in Slytherin; but the sorting hat didn't take it into account at all. He said that's where my fate lies, but strongly considered putting me in Gryffindor. I'm really sorry that I got sorted into Slytherin, really I am. Hopefully you aren't mad…But it's not nearly as bad as I expected it to be! The Dungeons are really cool and all, and I'm roommates with Markus Zabini, Richard Nott and Scorpius Malfoy. I have a feeling though, that Scorpius and I are gonna be really good mate's – like you and Uncle Ron! We're already close._

_Oh…um, also there's something Rose asked me to add. More like forced me too – she's afraid to owl her parents with which house she's gotten too, but Scorpius and I are working on making her work up the courage. She's, well…she's a Slytherin too, see? No one expected it; you should have seen what happened! It took my sorting 3 minutes, but with Rosie the hat barely touched her head before it shouted Slytherin. Shocking right? _

_Well, hope Uncle Ron takes the news well. Rosie's scared of his reaction the most. _

_Anyways, I'll write you guys more often, with longer letters than this – I'm kind of rushing, I've got to get my Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment done so Professor Ambrose doesn't take off house points. And my herbology work…Professor Longbottom (by the way, he says hello) get's a bit loony when homework isn't done. Give my love to Lily and the rest of the family!_

_Yours,_

_Albus S. Potter._

He clearly remembered his reaction to scanning the words. "The hat barely touched her head before it shouted Slytherin" kept running through his mind like a broken record, or whatever those stupid muggle items even a day later, he and Hermione had finally received a letter from their daughter, and he tore it open without a second to waste, hoping to hear how she's managing in the very house he didn't want her to be sorted into. But all the letter said was "_Dear mum, dad. I'm a Slytherin – please don't hate me. Love, Rose." _

Ron couldn't have been more disappointed. Of course the love he had for his daughter lingered on but he couldn't help but feel a sudden detachment now that it was certain she wasn't a Gryffindor. He hadn't written back to her, in fact, he didn't speak as he handed the letter to Hermione – she seemed to accept the fact that their baby was in Slytherin more than he could even comprehend. How could he take the news as easy as she did, when his little girl was placed in the same exact house where all of his enemies were in; were Voldemort was in for Merlin's sake. Hermione told him he was overreacting and that he should accept Rose for who she was, but he refused to believe such a thing. He had not spoken to the 11 year old when she came back for Christmas break.

Truth be told, he missed most of watching her growing up. Bill and Fleur had often told him about their experiences with watching their daughters grown into a woman, and while Hermione could relate Ron could not. The relationship between he and Rose had grew so intense that every time they locked up the young girl would scowl and look away and then later on a fight would break out and the latter would leave the house and not come back. Of course, this did not go without a good yelling from a rather frightening Hermione and Ginny. And he knew he had rattled the family with this childish and rather immature act to his own kin, but for some reason he couldn't get over the fact that she was placed in the exact house he did not want her to be in. Ronald Weasley is known for holding grudges, just like Hermione.

Rose grew into a stunning young woman though. At the age of sixteen she's petite like her mother had been, and had inherited Ron's Quidditch genes in which had kept her fit and slender. There was a right amount of freckles sprinkling her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, very light and almost unnoticeable; much like Hermione's. Her hair was a delicate auburn with brunette roots, cascading down her shoulders in elegant waves and curls, and there would be a dimple in her left cheek whenever she smiled or smirked. She could have gotten any boy she wanted, and Ron didn't consider that a fairly good thing, no matter how strained their father-daughter relationship had become.

Hugo was an awkward boy, on the other hand. It wasn't that he wasn't charming, in fact he looked the most like Hermione, with Ron's icy blue eyes. He shared the brown hair of his mother, yet it was more controllable yet undoubtedly curly; and his front molars were a bit larger than normal. Unlike most of his cousins, at the age of 15 Hugo was scrawny and due to the fact that he had gathered the genes for knowledge from Hermione, he had resulted in taking leisure in books rather than Quidditch, in which he had admitted to despising and finding relatively uninteresting. He had the balance of a cat, though, Ron had noticed; the boy could stub his toe on the coffee table and maintain a perfect stride. He barely stuttered, if not at all, and he had no problem with coming up with his blunt retorts.

A trait that both of his children carried.

It appeared that Percy was the perfect choice to be the godfather of Hugo, because with the likes of this one Ron believed that he was heading down the same road. His son was a major bookworm yes, but he did like to enjoy at least some time with his cousins and friends he had made through the four years he had spent at Hogwarts. Yet at the same time, while he had a sense of humor, he took his studious habits to an all new level that even Hermione hadn't – he carried on with S.P.E.W as well. Hugo hadn't done anything to make his blood boil, or even frown (despite when he refused to go to Quidditch games with him).

When Ron was for sure that he would have no child in Gryffindor, and that his only and youngest son would become a Ravenclaw instead, he was disappointed. However, when he had received a letter home from Hugo, saying that he was in fact a lion, Ron practically showered him with pride and perhaps a little bit too much. Hermione frowned at him whenever he spent more time with Hugo, and his daughter scowled and rolled her eyes; Ron, at first, didn't quite catch what their problem was. But though a Gryffindor, Hugo hadn't shown one spark of bravery or courage towards anything at all. He couldn't help but wonder how on earth he managed to land in that house, no matter how proud or excited he was.

To Ron, Hugo was the "Golden Child" of the Weasley/Potter clan. Nothing about that was showing any signs of changing, either.

* * *

><p>Ron had been through war, through death, through pain and through fear. His childhood was pestered and fouled by it, yet he had managed to get through it unshaken (for the most part). He had faced a hormonal, very pregnant Hermione, a furious Hermione. Yet here he was, standing in front of his eldest child and only daughter's bedroom door, rooted on the spot. His fist hovered over the wooden platform as he stood there, debating whether to go back into the living room or just go for it. Swallowing thickly, he turned his head to gaze longingly down the hallway; he could see the comfortable chair he had always sat in clear view, but it was inevitable that he had caught his wife's intently watching eyes. She nodded and smiled warmly in encouragement, though it was quite obvious she wouldn't have it if he had decided to bail out on this mission.<p>

So he gently tapped his pale knuckles against the door. "Rosie, can I come in?"

"Don't you dare call me that ever again." Came the harsh reply that made Ron flinch and frown. He reached for the doorknob anyway, his question unanswered, and creaked the door open to peek his head around. However as soon as he did, there was a flash of light and he jumped out of the way just in time. The hex hit a picture across the hallway, a picture of the entire Weasley/Potter clan, and had knocked it completely off the wall and into ruins. He gulped and looked back at Hermione, who didn't appear to notice him in his time of desperate need.

"May I, err…please come in, Rose?" He tried again, this time more slowly and punctuated as he peeked around the door once again. His daughter was sitting on her bed, clutching a fluffy green pygmy puff stuffed animal tightly to her chest.

"Why not." She said, and for the first time he had realized her voice had been thick presumably from crying.

Ron gulped once again as he entered the room and ran a hand through his mop of ginger hair, closing the door behind him. There was a penetrating silence and he glanced around him; he hadn't been in her room for years and it appeared over time it had grown more and more…girlish. It was tidy, with a working desk and drawers, a couch and a few chairs, a wizarding TV that's only used for Quidditch games all over the country…she had quite a few Slytherin banners hanging around her bed post, and her bulletin board was filled with pictures of her, Albus and that Malfoy boy together. He was aware of the trinkets and the pillows that supported her house; that showed her pride for being within the pit of snakes rather than the pride of lions that made up most of the Weasley's. His gaze lingered upon a moving picture in a elegant frame standing on her bedside table.

It was she and Malfoy junior in the picture. Their arms were wrapped around each other's waists and smiling up at the camera that had been held in the boy's free hand. His daughter's head was on Malfoy's chest, and the two were smiling so broadly in their Slytherin robes that it almost made his lips twitch in a grin, instead of anger.

"Is there something you wanted, father?" She asked, sniffing.

Ron turned his attention back to her and walked over to her bed, sitting at the end of it. She curled up to make room, hugging the stuffed animal closer to her. It was battered, so old that the fake fur upon it was beginning to shrivel and lose its color. "D'you remember when we got you that?" He asked her softly, that grin finally finding his face. "Me and your mum spent the whole day at Diagon Alley looking for something for your fourth birthday, that you'd absolutely love and all we managed to get was that bloody thing. And when you opened the present you hugged you were so excited that you got it….named it Tubby-Wubs right away." He chuckled slightly at the memories.

"You and that thing were inseparable. You dragged it bloody everywhere you went – to the store, to the Burrow or the Potter's, even when you came down to eat breakfast you'd have it in your tiny little arms. When James accidently…"

"Set it on fire I was absolutely devastated" Rose finished for him, picking at the battered fuzz of the plush toy but at the same time, refusing to meet his eyes. "Yeah, I remember."

"I didn't think you'd keep it as long as you did." He added, scratching the back of his neck. He was getting off topic, but quite honestly, he couldn't help himself. This was the longest conversation the two had ever had together, and he didn't want to ruin it by saying something stupid. "I'm surprised you haven't taken it to Hogwarts."

"Really, there was never a reason for me too. Mum said you picked it out, and after the sorting incident I wanted nothing to do with it." Rose answered, her voice surprisingly firm. "I'm not even sure why I'm holding it now."

"Can I tell you something?" She asked after a short period of silence. "Without you arguing with me, or without you interrupting me?"

Ron simply nodded.

The steadiness in her voice surprised him as she began to speak, finally meeting his eyes. "Through these past six years, all I ever wanted was for you to be…to be proud of me. Just once I wanted you to boast about how your daughter became prefect in fifth year and then again this year; all I wanted was for you to cheer me on just as you cheer on James and Fred and every other bloody cousin that I have when you attend a Quidditch match with the Gryffindor's against us. It would have been worth the embarrassment those things would have brought to me to know how proud you are, and not in the privacy of our own home but out in public."

"I never wanted to be a Slytherin up until the day I was sorted. I didn't ask for it; I never asked to break the Weasley family tradition! But you should know more than anyone else, where exactly I had inherited my pride from, and my uncanny ability to turn most things into quarrels. How I hate that even though I am most of the time, I hate admitting that I'm wrong and even more being the first to apologize. To think I received it all from you is almost comical, considering that it's exactly what made me, me, and into the daughter that you disapprove of.

Never once had I doubted your love, but your support. Not even today when you had decided to scream your disappointment toward having me as a daughter saying that I was mocking the family name by showing up with a Malfoy as a boyfriend during Christmas family dinner tonight, in front of everybody. Not even then."

Rose took an uneven breath – while she was speaking her voice had grown faster and faster and he had a hard time keeping up. He cleared his throat, attempting to remember everything he had been thinking of in the past few days.

"I'm sure I've never told you this, or your mum never told you this…but, my biggest fear in the world was that I would let you down someday." Ron stated uneasily, his stomach twisting as he glanced into his daughters tearing golden eyes. He ran a hand over his face, "Merlin Rose, I did let you down – in ways every father dreads and fears of doing. I blamed you and accused you of unfathomable things, of the sorting choice which was completely out of yours hands. From time to time, whenever we argued; either under our own roof, or the Burrow or even at the Quidditch pitch of Hogwarts, I've made a fool of myself. And I will never forgive myself for that." He reached over and grabbed her smaller hand in his own, his lips pressed in a firm line as he pondered on what to say next.

"Though it didn't seem like it, I was always so proud of you. From the moment you landed position as the best Hogwarts Keeper, to the moment where you made prefect again this year and passed your O.W.L's with flying colors. You've always had a budding intelligence just like your mum, despite being dyslexic, which always made me so proud. I've always had problems with holding grudges Rosie; when me, your mum and Uncle Harry were growing up, Slytherin was always the bad guys. Slytherin was known as the evil house back then and it's not something that's very easy to get over, especially when your daughter lands in it. I never wanted it to end up like this though, I never thought it would."

She stared at him for a while, as if she was comprehending every word he had said just like he had been when she was finished speaking. Yet while she remained silent, Rose had scooted over and put her arm around his waist, cautiously leaning against him and resting her head on his shoulder – he gradually put his arm around his daughter's slim shoulders; the closest he's ever been to her in years.

"It doesn't need to end this way, we don't need to stay like this daddy. I think this is the most I've talked to you in years without screaming or yelling; we've already accomplished something. And Slytherin isn't bad anymore, you can't concentrate on something that was in the past and let it affect you now in the present. Especially now that I'm exclusive with Scorpius, you can't keep looking back on their family. They've changed, I've seen it for my own eyes."

"You know" Began Ron as he rested a chaste kiss upon his daughter's forehead. "You remind me so much of your mother when you say things like that."

"So does this mean that you're willing to start this all over?" She asked him, sounding incredibly sheepish and childlike.

"Well you know what they say, Rosie. If at first you do not succeed…" Ron trailed off, awaiting for Rose to finish the sentence for him.

"Hide all evidence that you tried" She gave a small laugh, the dimple on her left cheek showing as she smirked.

He nodded and chuckled, his relief was almost so overpowering that for a moment he felt lightheaded. "Exactly; so, yes, I am more than willing to start a new beginning and try to forget about what's happened in the past. But…that doesn't mean I have to warm up to that Scorpion lad just yet"

And for the first time in six years, father and daughter smiled at each other.

* * *

><p><strong>This by far is the longest fic I've ever written yet. Lol.<strong> **Apologies if this is rubbish – I pulled an all nighter Monday night with my friends to get an early spot into Pottermore (which I did! :) Validated my account and waiting for the welcome email. Message me if you want my account if you got in too!) And we figured it would be much more fun to stay up rather than wake up at the alarm – we had one just in case. Anyways, I wrote this one up during that time period and spent today revising and adding some things since I was busy sleeping yesterday, haha.**

**If you want, I'll do another part to this for the Malfoy family (in either Astoria's or Draco's POV), so I'll keep the status as "In Progress" Until I deciede on what to do. It's your choice if you want one! The obvious pairing here is Rose/Scorpius, and if I do, do a second part to this there will definitely be a scene involving the two of them together as a couple. :)  
><strong>

**See that button down there?**

**You know what to do;)**


	2. The Malfoy's

**Installment Two; the Malfoy's**

"_It is not our abilities that show us what we truly are. It is our choices"- J.K Rowling_

Draco Malfoy could positively say that he's been to Hell and back because it was evident, that his life had not been one that someone would enjoy living. It seemed at first, when he was a mere, smug boy at the age of 11 that his life was filled with riches and wealth and at the time, it was and he could proudly say that. And then so suddenly, that perfect, careless life came crashing down the moment Lord Voldemort had returned, or was on the brink of. Admittedly he had done horrid things in the past that he was now ashamed of; yet he was just a boy then and he was following and relying on his parents judgment and instincts, he was following what they had told him was right, and what was wrong.

Right being wrong now, and wrong being right. All he himself had ever wanted to do was make the right decision, to please his parents – however, during the Battle of Hogwarts Draco became pensive. When they had announced Harry Potter "dead", he was torn on what to do: join the good side once and for all, die and disappoint his parents, or follow the now-faded dark mark on his forearm and join Voldemort's army of Death Eaters once and for all. He picked the latter and in the end had made the wrong decision after all, something he's always feared doing.

Voldemort's fall was like a wave of relief upon the Malfoy family. They were free. Lucius, though, having his loyalty toward the fallen Dark Lord fully alleged, continued forth believing that the wizarding world should not exist with muggle-borns and those who are not pure, however it was not long before the Aurors had barged into their home and whisked they away to Azkaban while they awaited their trial.

He himself had stood in the stands as his father was put to trial second; Narcissa had been sitting next to him, she being the only Death Eater he had known that had gone through the court unfazed and free; she had saved herself by admitting what she had done when Harry had gone to his supposed death in the woods, claiming that though he was very much alive, he was dead. But Lucius had done nothing good, he had done nothing but admit his loyalty to the Dark Lord and his pleads that any crime he had committed was upon force had gone to no avail. Draco held his mother while she cried in his shoulder, watching with cold gray eyes as his father was subjected to the Dementors kiss.

Very much like he was unable to forget the incident at his Manor, the image of his father's soul being sucked from his body still remains whenever he dreams. Though he wasn't very fond of Lucius, or had a strained relationship with him, they were tied by blood, and it was terrifying and saddening at the same time to watch him die in front of his very eyes.

Draco's trial had gone very well, as opposed to Lucius's. While clutching onto the arms of the wooden seat he was strapped upon, eye to eye with the Minister of Magic himself, he told them everything from start to finish; truthfully. Admittedly, he believed that the only thing that had saved him from being dealt with in the same fashion that his father was, was when he had said he had not given Harry away to his Aunt Bellatrix (now deceased alongside Voldemort). Draco himself had been sentenced 3 years within the Azkaban prison however, when it was revealed he had let the Death Eaters within Hogwarts the night that Dumbledore was murdered.

It was frightening when Kingsley Shaklebolt charged him to the wizarding prison, but nevertheless Draco hadn't put up a fight when the Auror's led him away. He walked the hallways to his cell with his head bowed in exception for when he had locked eyes with his bawling mother – he made sure it was clear in his eyes that he was not going to leave her alone forever. He allowed himself to be changed up within the walls of his own personal Hell without difficulty, grabbed a hold of his number and stared blankly into the camera as if flashed.

Azkaban itself was enough to make even the sanest of people go absolutely mad, but for him this was not the case. For the three years that he had served his time he had created plans for when he was let free. Plans or rather, ideas, of how he would live his life. He knew from the moment he watched his father die, he was going to become nothing like him, that should he himself become a father when he was released from this hellhole of a prison, he was going to give his son the best life he could.

Yes, son. The Malfoy's always had sons, regardless of their spouses. It was inevitable.

When Draco had been released from Azkaban, his life was not as easy as he had hoped and dreamed. Straight away he had gone to his mother at the Manor that revealed so many horrid memories, and together the two began to clear everything out, to erase any evidence and traces that this had once been the safe house and meeting place of thousands of death eaters and even Voldemort himself. His face was in the Daily Prophet for weeks and months even, and nothing warm or settling had been said about him. It wasn't as if he expected to be greeted with warm smiles in the streets, one would be a fool to even have their mind come across that, it was the simple fact that he had simply wanted to be…invisible. The glares and the whispers were a mental torture, and he figured that the solitude of Azkaban was better than the harsh reality of the real world he had been released into. It had certainly changed.

For the better of course, now that Voldemort was gone and all of wizarding Britain kissed the toes of Harry Potter, the Dark Lord's slayer. He figured that was the first place he should go; that he should wander off to the Head Auror's office, stick out his hand and apologize. And that was what he did.

(_"Listen here, Potter…err, Harry. Azkaban as taught me a lot, and I'm…willing to look passed this ridiculous rivalry we've had if you'll agree with me."_

"_Say no more, Draco. I'll never forget the part you played in the war – but we can't live in the past anymore. I'm glad we're on the same page." Potter held out his hand for him to shake, and Draco only hesitated the slightest._

"_This doesn't mean we're becoming best of friends, Potter."_

"_I know."_

"_I'm so-sorr…I'm _sorry._"_

_With a wink, he replied: "I know.")_

There was no guessing that that would explode over the papers and the news a week after; but Draco would have never guessed that it was just merely a day of silence before there were reporters left and right trying to get the details and reporting to the newspapers the answers they had gotten. Talking to other witches and wizards about his barely heartfelt agreement with the new savior of the wizarding world was not on Draco's to-do list and his main priority was finding a job to keep himself and his mother alive and stable. Of course, like everything else, this was not all so easy. He knew people wouldn't give him a second glance once he showed them his face or said "Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy."

Yet there was one woman who stood out from all the rest. He was looking for a job at the Ministry, in any department it did not matter, and a young lady who looked awfully familiar approached him with a gentle smile. She had soft brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders and piercing blue eyes; her facial structure reminded him greatly of someone he knew when he was back in Hogwarts (he had considered going back to finish his seventh year, but being he was too old that was not possible). And then it all clicked into place when she introduced herself as Astoria Greengrass, the younger sister of his old school "friend" Daphne who he wouldn't know because she was a Ravenclaw rather a Slytherin like the rest of her family.

At first, he had no idea why she even bothered approaching him until she asked him if he was plundering about in need of a job. He remembers being hopeful, yet at the same time skeptical, when he had admitted that she had guessed right. And then she told him that she herself worked in the Ministry and had close ties with someone who was in need of another employee; another Unspeakable. Draco jumped into the gracious opportunity without a second thought.

He and Astoria got on quite well after that. Every morning as they went to work they would meet each other for breakfast, speaking only of the present times and the future; she had never once asked him about his past, as if it had never existed, and he believed that beside her flawless looks, that was one of the reasons he was so drawn to her. She became his only friend for quite some time, being as his other so-called-comrades had gone off and married and lived their life to the fullest without him. She was a real person who looked by his last name, and not to mention she was all too generous. Draco found himself glad to have found her, or stumbled upon her, whatever he did; and also very grateful.

And then all of the sudden the two were a couple. One moment they were talking, flirting and the next their lips were pressed together and the rest is history.

Draco never knew love. He'd never felt it, he'd never experienced it from his parents, and hell, he's never seen it. But he was sure that this feeling that he had got whenever he was with Astoria, or just simply thinking about her…he was sure that that was love. What he had with Pansy Parkinson wasn't love. She was his shagging partner when they went to school, something he used for pleasure when things got too tough.

Astoria was different, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

They got married 2 years later, on the date of June 20th 2003, and then another two years passed and before he knew it he came home to work to a gleeful, yet at the same time scared, Astoria holding something he didn't know of. He remembers looking at her with a skeptical expression which seemed to morph into absolute fear when the words "I'm pregnant" were uttered. He stood rooted in the same spot he had apparated too in shock, his paper work scattered upon the floor at his feet and stared at his wife with wide gray eyes.

He had asked her if she was certain over ten times in the matter of five minutes as if every time she asked the answer would come back negative. It wasn't that he didn't want her to be pregnant, it was the simple fact that he was unsure he was quite ready to have a child so early into their marriage. So he had sank into the nearest chair with a blank expression, face paler than normal and feeling oddly numb. Surely this wasn't how he was supposed to act because in the end Astoria ended up sobbing and backing away from him, saying a bunch of gibberish he couldn't quite understand – but how on earth was Draco _supposed _to react? It wasn't like he ever had this experience before.

And the next thing he knew, he was alone. The feeling of panic and dread that overpowered him that night could not be forgotten, because he had been so spaced out he wasn't sure where she had said she was going, if she had at all. He took days off of work, much to his bosses chagrin, and spent nights and nights in the comfort of the Manor that he shared with his wife, just waiting for her to come home, to walk through the Floo network or apparate back. He realized in these short three days that he was actually proud, ecstatic really, that he was going to be a father. It would be a chance for him to prove that he actually was different from Lucius. Not only that, but it was a creation of him and the woman that he loved – surely, that counted for something.

Oh Draco had gone out of his way in her absence. He bought a bouquet of roses with all his wealth adorned from Gringotts, and had even built (by wand of course) her an art room for her leisure time. He sent out five house elves in search of her, he had gone to his in-laws, but none of it was to any avail whatsoever.

Once again, Draco Malfoy had made a mistake. It appeared that that was exactly what he was good at doing: making all the wrong choices, even after the war and his time served in Azkaban. At least though, he was aware that his punishment had changed him. He was no longer as cold and ungrateful as he had been many years ago, but collected and calm, an attribute that no one could compare to his father. Impatience had lingered in the place of his prejudices.

When Astoria had finally come home after a week of nothing, Draco swore he had never hugged anyone so hard in his life (not that he hugged anyone beside her). Immediately he had handed her the roses, kissed her stomach and led her to the art room without a second to waste.

Little Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was born nine months later on the date of May 20, 2005. The name was specifically a constellation, the tradition had to live on of course, and in the courtesy of his mother. He wasn't particularly fond of it, but over time it had grown on him quite well. He had barely any patience though, when it came to waking up at ungodly hours in the nighttime to a loud wailing two rooms down and had usually let Astoria handle that when he was too tired to pry himself from the comforter that became ten times softer whenever he was so abruptly awoken.

His son was a curious lad at a young age, reminding him greatly of his wife – always asking questions. However, a year before young Scorpius was sent off to his first year of Hogwarts, the curiosity got a tad bit out of hand and far out of his comfort zone. Usually, he would answer the questions with "go ask your mother" or if they were simple enough, he would answer and go back to his work. But this time, his response was completely earnest, because when Scorpius asked Draco what the faded Dark Mark on his arm was, he replied "The biggest mistake I've ever made."

And he had meant every word.

Draco wasn't exactly nervous when it came time to bring Scorpius to Platform 9 and 3/4, like most parents would have been. He trusted his son, who was an independent (good natured; he was raised differently than Draco himself) figure. When he had caught sight of the Potter's and Weasley's, he knelt down to the young boys level, put his hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye with a stern expression etched across his face.

_("Now Scorpius, do you see that family over there? The Potter's and the Weasley's…best bet is you'll come across the group of them when you first board the train. I want you to show nothing but respect to them, and if it means befriending the two in your year then so be it; family rivalries are behind us Malfoy's. But watch out for that little Weasley girl, she's the daughter of the smartest witch of my age."_

"_You have nothing to worry about father, I'll make sure to beat her at every test we have." Scorpius grinned, yet as soon as it came, it disappeared. "What if I don't get in Slytherin, father? What if I end up in Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff…or worse, Gryffindor?"_

"_Whichever house you are sorted in doesn't matter to me, Scorpius. You are your own person, and I'm sure Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and even Gryffindor would have gained an excellent student." Draco paused. "I'm sure you'll have no problems."_

"_I hope I get in Slytherin though." _

"_There's no doubt you will, my son. Time to board the train then? Make me proud son, make the right choices, stay smart and don't get into too much trouble, or your mother will have your head." With a wink, Draco stood and hugged his son close, not quite willing to let go. The hug didn't last long – Astoria was a very impatient woman.)_

Though he would have been happy if his son had broken the tradition and being sorted into another house, he had been a Slytherin (along with, to Draco's utter surprise, Albus Potter and Rose Weasley) after all. He couldn't say he doubted that he wouldn't, but if Astoria was his mother than he had bound to have gone to Ravenclaw should he not have; after all, he was a very smart boy, and that proved to be such when he had landed all O's and E's in his O.W.L examinations, and landed prefect in his fifth year, and then again this year while he was in his sixth.

Scorpius himself was a handsome young man, now six years later. Ever since he was a young child, people almost constantly commented how he was going to be quite the heart throb, and how he had looked exactly like Draco. But now, the last statement wasn't exactly true; Scorpius had proven to be his mother's son. He has the Malfoy signature of blonde hair, yet wilder and darker due to Astoria's genes, and his face is less pointy and is completely proportional and symmetrical. Of course, his eyes are a light gray color like all the Malfoy men before him, and Quidditch keeps him broad and fit, and had often boasted that he had gotten out of potentially punishing situations with the Professors with a "dazzling" – or so he says – smirk.

He may be his father's son, and his grandfather's grandson, but that doesn't mean that he's not any different. In fact, he's the farthest thing from what anyone would suspect, though he does have his times where he could be rather insulting and smug and superior of others that he doesn't seem worthy. The level headed-ness he had inherited from the Greengrass portion of his family left him the ability to see the line between what was going too far and what was not – as well as hanging around with the right kind of people. Draco had always warned of becoming what he was when he was in his Hogwarts years, and had often encouraged him to make friends with those outside of Slytherin to stop the rivalries, and to prove those who dislike the Malfoy's different.

Something in which Draco and Astoria often prided their son for, was his uncanny interest for the world of muggles, and how he isn't the slightest bit prejudice. Scorpius wears casual, and not to mention quite fashionable, muggle attires more than he does wizarding robes, and had obligated in taking Muggle Studies every since year three at Hogwarts. He often commented what he had learned in that class, preferably about contraptions Draco could never remember, and that Arthur Weasley was his favorite Professor by far. Another thing that he was most proud of, is how he had managed to become best friends with Albus and Rose during his first year, particularly fond of the Weasley girl – as said through letters – something he would have not been able to do himself due to cowardly reasons.

Needless to say, he was not the least bit surprised when Scorpius announced to him and Astoria that he was dating Rose Weasley since the beginning of their fifth year. Fond of the girl regardless, he had welcomed her to his home for dinner on countless occasions over the summer with open arms and (somewhat) gentle smiles.

Sweet Circe, life had turned out quite well for Draco, hadn't it?

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><p>Without bothering to fix his casual attire, Scorpius stepped from the green flames inhabited in the fireplace and into the abandoned drawing room. He looked, and felt, worse than a fatal fall off of his broom and all he had wanted to do was go to his room, write up a quick owl to Rose and finally fall asleep. He supposed that this had to be one of the longest day's he's ever experienced, and admittedly, he would have been much happier if Albus had slipped the firewhiskey to Mr. Weasley sooner rather than as late as he had – perhaps then, the shouting wouldn't have reached its extreme proximity. There was nothing worse than being unaccepted by your girlfriend's father; any other bloke could strongly relate to that he was sure, especially since he had been absolutely mad about her for years.<p>

Then again, he supposed it could have been his fault. He could have made an excuse to spend this Christmas with his family instead, so he wouldn't shake up the very tiny relationship between Rose and her father even more. Truth be told, he wasn't quite ready to meet the parents as early as he had – if it had just been the Potter's, Hermione (who accepted him warmly unlike her husband) and the other Weasley's beside Ron, whom he had seen plenty of times over the summer, that would have been just fine.

Rubbing his face with his palm he pinched the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a terrible migraine becoming evident the more and more he thought of about Ron's words, directed at both him and his own daughter. Scorpius couldn't really fathom how someone would say something like that to their child - especially in front of family and their friends – at all, despite the fact that he had been told numerous times by Rose and Albus, how bad his temper could be. No matter what though, he was glad that even James had been defending him in the act, someone he had never really gotten on the same terms with, and the others who disagreed with the statement their (Uncle/brother/husband) was saying. Though he was rather disappointed that Cheryl, his own cousin – as Albus's one selected guest – hadn't said anything. Perhaps because she had already gained Ron's acceptance, and didn't want that privilege shattered.

Oh well.

Investigating the silence of the Manor, he glanced at his watch. _1:23 A.M. _Both of his parent's and his grandmother must have been sleeping, given that if they had heard the Floo roar in indication that someone was arriving, they would have come to check. Scorpius considered Apparating from the Burrow, however he supposed he wasn't in the right mind set at the time to arrive in the destination he had wanted. Yet perhaps then, maybe they would have heard him. He didn't mind them not being awake either, in fact he preferred it, because it saved him from having to explain why he hadn't stayed at the Potter's with Albus after all.

A sigh managed to pass his lips as he walked across the unused room and through the large ark door, closing it with a soft click behind him. For reasons untold to Scorpius, the drawing room had been furthermore abandoned and empty since the war, and no matter how much he had pressed and pried to find out the reasons of such a spacious room being put to waste, neither of his parents bothered to answer him. Draco's face would always become solemn or paler than natural, and Astoria would shake her head and go back to doing whatever she was doing at the time. Though once, he himself had found a rather odd crimson stain in the finely polished wood, and figured whatever had happened in the room was nothing pleasant.

The Manor was very large, much too large for just four people to reside within it (Grandmother Narcissa had moved in with them when he was just a baby and now his mother was taking care of her for being much too old to do so herself), and like the room prior it was very spacious. Whenever the Greengrass family visited over the summer of holidays, there would be plenty of space for the two rather small families. Yet no matter how big it was, it was certainly not vacant. There was a different setting for each of the rooms; there was a music room no one used, an art room where his mother liked to spend her leisure time in, and several of the rooms had been demolished and morphed together to make a two story library with a connected study for his father.

Swiftly he made his way through the hallways and up the stairs to the kitchen; before he had gone to bed and sent the owl he was determined to get a quick drink to quench his irritatingly dry throat – he wasn't going to settle for any caffeine or tea, and just a simple water instead, and he wasn't going to bother Misty, a loyal house elf, to get it for him either. The living room was gratefully empty as he passed, however, when he had stepped foot in the large kitchen after passing the dining hall, it was not. It wasn't hard to make out that it was his mother sitting at the island counter with a cup of tea in her hands and long brown hair pulled into a elegant bun.

"Oh, Scorpius. I thought you were spending the rest of the night at the Potters?" She asked him once they met each other's eyes, bringing the blazing white cup to her lips.

He grinned grimly at her as he made his way to the cabinets, gathering himself a glass cup. "Things came up." He replied simply, turning to the refrigerator with a scowl – this was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. Though he loved his mother dearly, she was a rather persistent and stubborn person; she pry's to get answers, and refuses to stop until she does.

"Did something happen with Rose?" Astoria looked taken aback as he sat in front of her with his full glass of water in his hands. It was no surprise that she was worried, after all she was rather fond of his girlfriend, the two had gotten along very well when they had first met, and all the times Scorpius had her over.

"No, nothing happened with _her_ mother." He sighed and took a drink of his beverage, the cold liquid refreshing against his hoarse throat. "It appears she had gotten her temper from Mr. Weasley though, who I might add, isn't a very happy bloke."

There was a brief silence, and with a furrowed brow his guardian spoke once again. "Why is that?" She asked him, though through the tone of her voice Scorpius was sure she already knew the answer.

"He wasn't jumping with joy when I walked into the house holding his daughter's hand, and surely wasn't when while defending herself and my own self, Rose let slip that we've been together since the beginning of fifth term." He explained, running a hand through his slightly tousled platinum blonde hair and squinting at the uncomfortable pounding within his temples. "Let's just say that he isn't satisfied with his daughter being in a relationship with a 'death eater spawn' and had said that she couldn't have made him more disappointed than he already was in her."

"He had said that too her? To you?" His mother gasped, looking more taken aback than she had only moments ago.

"Yes…there was a handful of other things I'd rather not repeat in front of you…or father for that matter. I'm just glad that Mrs. Weasley took our side rather than his. It's somewhat settling knowing you've been accepted by at least one parent." He told her, taking another quick swig of the crystalline water in his cup and sighing.

"It's rather surprising to hear how some people can't let go of the past, even years after something as horrible as the war had happened." Astoria sighed as well, reaching across the table to grab his hand. "But if you won't tell me what he said to you directly, I have no other option but to tell you that whatever it was is certainly not true. You are a fine young man Scorpius and you've been raised well; any grudges against your father and the Weasley's is dead on our behalf, and you mustn't let that get in the way with the relationship you share with Rose."

Scorpius's lips upturned in a slight grin. "I wish Mr. Weasley was as accepting as you and father…I was nothing but respectful to him the entire time he was calling our family and his daughter a disgrace." The grin was gone.

"Unless we directly speak to him himself, we'll never know what's going on in his mind to allow him to think that way." Astoria squeezed his hand and brought it to her cup again, wrapping it around him. "Though I'm sure as long as Hermione's around she'll be able to convince him enough to change his mind."

"I'm sure she would have done that six years ago when Rose told them she was a Slytherin." He retaliated, a hatred growing for the way the man had acted.

"Yes, well she was probably much too shocked herself to even consider calming his raging temper that night. Have you talked to her after you left, or did you just get back?"

"Just got back a minute or so ago…I was going to owl her before going to bed." He trailed off and the two lapsed into a comfortable silence. However something that had been eating at the back of Scorpius's mind, as much as he dreaded even thinking such a thing, could not be held back any further, and before he knew it he was speaking again. "Mother, do you think that if I left her, things would get better on her behalf?" He asked her quietly, refusing to meet his mother's eyes and attempting to ignore the obvious pain in his voice when he said it. The very thought was enough to make his mood greatly decrease and his heart falter.

"What? Heaven's no, that wouldn't make anything better!" Astoria gasped, sounding almost scandalized. "Look, Scorpius darling, you can't leave Rose because of something like this. It will get better, I promise you – this is just another chapter in your life, just not the happiest one. If I'm quite sure of anything, this will make your relationship stronger. I see the way you two look at each other and I cannot simply imagine one of you without the other."

Such a powerful wave of relief crashed down upon his shoulders and he released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Ever since he was little, Scorpius had always clung onto his mother's wise words; she was a Ravenclaw for a reason, and it seemed as if whatever she said advised worked out in the end. He wasn't about to stop believing her now, just because of one man's harsh and cruel words toward him. "Thank you mother, honestly. I suppose now, the only thing that I need to do is just…be patient, strong." He exhaled deeply, and for the first time in a while his voice lacked confidence.

His mother stood up with her cup long abandoned and walked over to him, pressing her lips to the top of his head warmly and brushing her fingers through his hair for a moment. "You should go owl her now, sweetie. I'm sure if you wait any longer she'll be right asleep, and you wouldn't want that. Be sure to tell her that she's welcome here any time she needs or would like."

Without a second thought he nodded and stood up, being sure to kiss his mother's cheek before expeditiously fleeing the room with a "thanks" called over his shoulder. He didn't want Rose to think that he wasn't going to owl her before she went to sleep like he had done every night over the summer and holiday break so far, just because of the show down they had with Mr. Weasley. He reached his bedroom in no time, regardless of it being two flights up, unrolled a fresh piece of parchment, groped for his quill and began to write in the neatest script he could manage – because of her severe dyslexia, if he had done otherwise it would make the letter utterly impossible for her to read, and all his words would have gone to waste.

_Dear Rose,_

_Hello love, are you holding up well? I've just gotten home a few moments ago and had a nice chat with my mother…don't tell Albus about that or I might have to erase your memory. Anyway, you looked pretty devastated before I left and I wanted to check if you were alright before I head to sleep, which I figured you might be doing right now. Did anything else happen after I left? I would have stayed if he hadn't threatened me so much; with a face like mine, I can't afford any hexes. Just kidding. _

_Whatever he said about you being a disgrace to the Weasley name was a lie, Rose. It was a horrible thing to say and I sincerely hope he realizes how powerful words could be, especially coming from a father. You're not a disgrace, or a disappointment or any of those things. You're Rose Elizabeth Granger-Weasley, a beautiful girl with golden eyes, ginger hair and a birthmark behind your left ear and you're someone who's different (in a good way of course) from the rest. You're independent, determined, confident, caring, the list could go on. Just…don't think too much about what he said tonight, alright? Nothing he says could change the way I feel about you, and I'm sure as hell not going to leave you until you order me away._

_I just realized how awfully sappy that is, but it's the truth and there's no doubt about that. I love you Rose and that's not going to change any time soon. _

_But I hope that eventually you and your father will come to speaking terms again and see eye to eye. That would be a miracle. If not though, mother says you're welcome to stay at the Manor whenever you'd like and father adores you, so I'm sure it would be no problem with him either. Well I'm sure you're tired, so I'll let you go to sleep. I'm just a floo or owl away if you need me to be Rose. Goodnight beautiful, sweet dreams._

_Yours, _

_Scorpius Malfoy._

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><p><strong>Well, that's the second installment! How'd you like it? I wasn't sure I exactly got Draco's personality right, which is why his section is kind of short, – I've never written him before – but that was my best shot. Also, the letter at the end was really fluffy, hope you don't mind :) I figured that since I did Draco's point of view for the first half of the story, that I should at least show the relationship between Scorpius and Astoria during the second.<strong>

**In the next chapter, you'll get to see what exactly happened through the eyes of either Hermione, or someone else...not exactly sure who yet (hmm), and then a snippet of Rose and Scorpius together to tie this all up  
><strong>

**Reviews are much appreciated! **


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